In Need of Affection
by Queen of Puppyshipping
Summary: Doflamingo/Crocodile, Crocodile/Robin. Post-Time Skip. Doflamingo didn't understand what was so horrible about what he'd done. Removing the ornery Croc's hook certainly wasn't as bad as when Crocodile *cheated* on him and had a baby with his mistress. And if Doflamingo could forgive him that, then Crocodile could certainly forgive him this - right? Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

"Are you an idiot?" Cold blue eyes examined the man before her with unconcealed disdain, her small body tense as monstrous hands locked around her waist, so large that he was able to interlock his fingers behind her back.

"Fufufu... Just as eloquent as daddy-dearest, I see." His inhuman grin should've been frightening, and it probably would've been, had it not been so terribly transparent. "Can't a man compliment a beautiful young lady without getting his head bitten off?"

She raised a violet eyebrow, "Not when he's shacking up with her father, he can't." She crossed her arms over her ample chest, "So I'll ask one more time. Are you an idiot, or do you just have a death wish? Or maybe it's both?"

Doflamingo smirked, "Just a severely undersexed man appreciating someone who has grown into quite a ravishing beauty and hoping perhaps we can... _get to know_ each other a little bit better..."

"So it's a death wish, then. Fair enough." She brushed him off a little too easily, before walking away.

She knew that this man was beyond dangerous, had seen him dismember traitorous members of his crew with inhuman glee. She also knew that he was highly intelligent - at least, more intelligent than he let on - and recognized the danger involved in harming her in any way. Her father had never been an overly affectionate man, but she knew he liked her well-enough to reduce the man before her to a dehydrated corpse should he so much as lay a finger on her.

Crocodile and Doflamingo were in the middle of one of the longest dry spells they'd weathered since starting this... well, whatever it was that the two shared. Not surprisingly, Doflamingo had done something or other to piss off the ornery Croc and he'd been withholding sex ever since. Quite honestly, Merci was surprised that Doflamingo wasn't trying harder to get into her pants. Three months without sex must've been absolute _torture_ for him.

That, or he actually _did_ possess a brain, and he realized that trying to sleep with his sometimes-lover's daughter was a very, _very_ bad idea. And not just because the little darling was all the best that Croc had to offer, wrapped up in a smoking-hot vessel of teenage angst.

"Where is the ornery old man, anyhow?" He'd expected to stumble across Crocodile in the sitting room, looking out the large picture window that dominated the entire far side of the house. Crocodile usually spent his lazy Sunday afternoons there, relaxing.

"Avoiding you." Merci answered nonchalantly, as if this _wasn't_ supposed to deeply offend the other man.

Doflamingo sighed, "And I trust he's warned you about disclosing his whereabouts?"

Merci smirked, "You know the old man so well." Doflamingo's shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, knowing he would get no more information from the girl. She was fiercely loyal to her father, only in part because she'd been half-terrified of him her entire life.

This was only made worse by the fact that Doflamingo had actually come with the intent to apologize to the ornery bastard, having realized the true extent to which his actions had made him uncomfortable. During their last encounter Crocodile had damn near killed him and he wasn't too anxious for a repeat performance, but he also acknowledged his only chance of saving what they'd once had was to try and make amends.

From the look on the kid's face, it was more than likely that she knew what had happened. Croc was never one to kiss and tell, but when he drank too much he tended to get a loose tongue regarding things that pissed him off - most notably, Doflamingo.

He honestly hadn't meant to do it! Could he really be blamed for getting carried away in the midst of passion? According to Crocodile - yes, yes he could. In the heat of the moment, he'd decided it would be a good idea to try and remove Crocodile's hook. He'd actually succeeded, too. Had it not been for the cross between absolute terror and anger on the older man's face, he probably wouldn't have realized he'd done anything wrong.

Merci watched him for a moment, before asking, "You really like Daddy, don't you?"

"Huh?" He responded ever-so-eloquently. That certainly hadn't been what he'd expected her to come out with.

"That's why you're here, isn't it? Because you care about him." She explained, her voice gentle. "A man like you could have anyone that he wanted, so finding another partner wouldn't be difficult. And yet you're here, to try and fix things between you and Daddy."

"Does he think that I've been sleeping around on him?" Doflamingo almost sounded offended.

Merci frowned, "Ten minutes ago, you were trying to talk me into bed. Is it really all that surprising that he has absolutely no faith whatsoever in your ability to keep it in your pants?" Ouch, that was cold. Not that he wasn't expecting that sort of treatment, but still. Ouch.

Doflamingo met her irritated gaze with some difficulty, seeing as she was a full five feet shorter than him. "Junior Croc, I'm telling you - I haven't gotten laid in _three months_. No sex. No blow-jobs. I haven't even jacked off!" Okay, perhaps that was an exaggeration, but it got the point across.

"You know... now that Mom's gone, Daddy doesn't have anyone either." Merci offered, but Doflamingo had never once doubted that Crocodile was faithful.

Croc had only ever cheated on him once, and really, more than anything, Doflamingo blamed himself for it. They were both treading new and, sometimes uncomfortable territory with this relationship. It was only natural that they'd stumble every now and then, searching out each other's boundaries. Doflamingo had pushed too hard, too soon... Crocodile had ended up in bed with Robin... and seven and a half months later, Merci was born.

Doflamingo could admit that he'd slept around during the early stages of their relationship, but that had come to an end after the whole Merci debacle. Now, he still liked to tease, but that was as far as he dared go. While they never really discussed 'feelings' with one another, Doflamingo realized that they were dancing around their feelings for one another every time they were together - and Crocodile equated emotions with weakness, therefore Doflamingo was an unnecessary vulnerability.

Doflamingo wanted to prove that he could be more than a vulnerability, that he was worth more and that this... whatever it was that they shared shouldn't just be thrown away because it was new and confusing and downright _terrifying_ at times. Because Doflamingo had already forgiven Crocodile the world, and maybe, just maybe, he thought it was high time that Croc returned the favor.

Merci sighed. "I still can't tell you where he is." Doflamingo slumped, and the tiny girl took pity on him. "But I will say this. Just because I can't tell you where he is doesn't mean you can't look for him yourself. He should be relatively easy to find, since he doesn't expect you'll be looking for him."

"Thanks, Junior Croc." He turned, heading toward the grand staircase that led to the second floor of the estate. There was no time to waste if he'd been given free reign of the house.

"Oh, and one more thing." She rose to her full five feet and two inches, glaring up at Doflamingo with steely blue eyes. In that moment, she reminded him so much of Crocodile it was scary. "You hurt him again, and a serious case of blue balls will be the least of your concerns. I will make you wish you were dead."

Under normal circumstances, a tiny little girl like Merci posed absolutely no threat to Doflamingo whatsoever. But he had a feeling that that little girl could be _very_ dangerous given the right circumstances... "Noted." He wasn't going to taunt a hungry croc, after all.

"Good." And then she smiled, which was almost as disturbing as her look of pure agitation. "Now get going, before I change my mind."

He didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, this is my first attempt at a DoflamingoXCrocodile fic. I wanted to break away from the idea that Doflamingo would be the one cheating, and take a look at the consequences to their relationship should Crocodile cheat _and_ have a child with that woman. I think that there is potential in their relationship for it to be more than just sex.

So let me know what you think, and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Crocodile's mansion was every bit as magnificent as he remembered. When it came to luxury and comfort, it was clear that the former Shichibukai had spared no expense.

The mansion was done in variants of orange and green, which seemed to be the Croc's favorite colors. A marble, spiral staircase commanded the center of the living area, trimmed with green velvet carpet. The rail was inlaid with gold, which glittered in the soft light of the candelabra. It was nothing short of an artistic masterpiece…

That was just like Crocodile, putting more value in material objects than in his actual relationships. If he were to stumble upon Merci's bedroom, it was likely that her room would be lavishly decorated with expensive imports from the four oceans – all the words that the Croc could never say represented in the presents his angel had accumulated over the years.

Slowly, he ascended the stairs, casting one last glance down at Merci. The violet-haired beauty was sharpening knives in the kitchen… "Oh, and Doflamingo? If you're still alive come dinner, we're having okonomiyaki."

Doflamingo grinned, "Fufufu… I look forward to it, Junior Croc."

He took the stairs two at a time, ascending higher until the first floor was swallowed in darkness. The savory scent of dinner was swallowed in a thick plume of pinkish smoke. The door to Croc's study was cracked open – there was a classical jazz record playing softly in the background, Crocodile's smooth baritone gliding over the music.

Doflamingo pushed the door open, catching the tail end of Crocodile's sentence, "…will be able to make it next Thursday, at the earliest. I have to -," he paused, catching sight of Doflamingo for the first time, "I'll have to call you back."

Doflamingo smirked, his long, pink tongue flitting out to wet his chapped lips, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes, you are." Crocodile said curtly. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get up here?"

"I'll admit, you've got one hell of a security system there, Croc." Doflamingo shivered at the memory of the beautiful young woman sharpening knives downstairs… "You're daughter has developed into quite the little hellcat, lover."

Crocodile frowned, "Hellcat?" He pursed his lips, clearly displeased with Doflamingo's choice of words. "Clearly not hellacious enough if she couldn't keep you from venturing up here…"

"It certainly wasn't for lack of trying." Doflamingo said, "If it's any consolation, she threatened to kill me. Twice."

"It's a shame that she didn't follow through." Crocodile lamented softly.

Doflamingo's smile faltered, "Is that any way to talk to the person you love?"

"I wasn't aware that that is what I was doing."

Crocodile sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his leather-clad feet propped up on the corner. The desk was strewn with paperwork, a black lamp with a garish orange shade casting a warm glow on the scene. He bit on the filter of his cigar as he thumbed through the pages of his newspaper, much preferring to read it than make eye contact with Doflamingo.

Doflamingo was surprised to find _pictures_ on Crocodile's walls… pictures of Merci growing up, of her and Robin cuddling together, of Merci holding a trophy from her first kill as an official member of Crocodile's newly reestablished crew. The man cared about his daughter, even if he rarely said it. Crocodile was painfully silent as he watched him from the corner of his eye.

Steeling himself, Doflamingo approached Crocodile's desk and threw all of the paperwork off onto the floor. Crocodile growled as the room was swallowed in a flurry of white, pushing off and away from the desk as Doflamingo sprawled himself out on top of it. The desk was obscenely large, but it was still swallowed beneath Doflamingo's hulking frame.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Crocodile grumbled, allowing Doflamingo to attach one of his strings to his arm and pull him back toward the desk.

"I know why you're upset with me." He said, slowly retracting his string. Crocodile twitched, a tickling sensation shooting down his side.

"Do you now?" He asked, clearly unimpressed.

He watched as Crocodile knocked the ashes off the butt of his cigar, "I never should've gotten… carried away like that. But you have to admit, you're a fascinating specimen. It's no wonder I was… distracted."

Crocodile sighed, "I suppose I should've suspected a dumb bird like you to be easily distracted…"

"You wound me, Croco."

The man grinned crudely, slowly uncapping his poison hook and thrusting it into Doflamingo's personal bubble, "Wound you? Why, I haven't even _done_ anything to you, you filthy bird… not yet, at least."

Doflamingo stared at the hook for a moment, purple fumes rising from the holes in the metal and mingling with the pink smoke of his cigar. His face was an unreadable mask as he murmured, "Do it. Kill me."

 _That_ was enough to give Crocodile pause, " _What?"_

He began to unbutton his shirt, before placing a hand directly over his heart, "Do it. Stab me right here. The poison will act quickest if applied closest to the heart, right?"

Dark eyes flickered from the man's exposed chest to his trembling hook – when had he started shaking? Did he really want to kill Doflamingo, to impale him on the poisonous hook and watch as the light slowly faded from his eyes? Something twisted painfully in his chest at the idea of Doflamingo laying cold and immobile on the floor to his study.

He clenched his right hand, fingers swelling beneath the tightness of his rings. When had he become so soft, that he cared whether that damned bird lived or died? That he preferred, when he met his inevitable end, it wasn't by his own hand? The sheer volume of sentimentality disgusted him. There was no room for mawkishness in the life of a pirate.

"Don't test me, you stupid bird." He covered the poison hook, before knocking the ashes off his cigar. "Close up your shirt and get the hell off my desk."

"Crocodile…" Doflamingo trailed, uncertain of how he was supposed to respond to that.

"Do you have a bloody death wish?" Crocodile asked.

"Why else would I be here, with you?" He teased, trying for a smile… Crocodile narrowed his eyes at him, and his face fell.

In lieu of answering, Crocodile rose from his seat – an elegant masterpiece of woodworking, twice the size of an average chair to accommodate his massive legs. He grabbed his forest green trench coat, which was draped over the back, "It's time for dinner."

If he thought that the Croc's study was magnificent, he clearly had never seen his dining room.

The room was the size of a small auditorium – there was a long, mahogany table set for twelve in the center of the room, a china cabinet filled with orange checkered dishes. To the left, there was an archway that led into a highly modernized kitchen, and to the right, the entrance to the living area. A huge, glass chandelier, fitted with light green candles, glistened over the table.

Merci had already set the table and was bringing dinner out when Crocodile and Doflamingo arrived. She gave Doflamingo a reassuring smile – clearly, she hadn't anticipated that he'd live this long, and was rather impressed that he'd managed to survive this long without her father managing to dehydrate him. But the night was still young.

"Hello, Daddy." Merci said softly, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her father's cheek. Crocodile gave her a firm pat on the shoulder, perhaps a wee bit harder than necessary, and took a seat at the head of the table.

"The bird will be joining us for dinner. Be sure to spit in his food." He said, casting the bird a sour glance as he claimed the seat next to him… the spot typically reserved for Merci.

Merci pouted, "Daddy, play nice."

Crocodile shrugged, "I could've told you to poison him. He said he had a death wish, after all."

"Would you like your prosthetic hand?" She asked nonchalantly, pulling the prosthetic from a cabinet below the bar – it housed various prosthetics, like claws of differing sizes, knives, even a flamethrower…

At Crocodile's affirmation, Merci brought the hand over and carefully began to detach Crocodile's hook. Her lithe, meticulous fingers loosened the leather strap and undid the buckle, before sliding the poison hook and its golden casing off and set them aside. Croc's dark eyes followed her every movement, uncertainty clear in their murky depths.

 _So it isn't my hands specifically that put Croco off…_ Doflamingo mused silently, watching as Merci strapped the fake hand into place. "I don't believe I've seen that one before."

Crocodile didn't even look at him, "Its poor manners to keep the hook on at the dinner table."

"And you're nothing if not the perfect gentleman." Doflamingo bit back, only a tad sarcastically.

"One of us has to be civilized." He hadn't realized he'd put out his cigar until he lit up again at the table, Merci offering him a light. The lighter – a dark green slab of metal – had a bananawani engraved onto the side of it.

Doflamingo raised one blonde brow, though the action was mostly hidden behind his flamboyant glasses. "I would think it would be poor manners to smoke at the dinner table."

"You must really think I'm above having my daughter poison your food and feeding you to my bananawani."

Merci gave him a placating smile, "Trust me when I say that you don't want to see Daddy without his nicotine."

"You mean he can be _worse_?" And there was that annoying laugh of his that had Crocodile gritting his teeth… his cigar snapped in two, the lit half falling uselessly onto the table.

"An idiot with a death wish." She mumbled under her breath, before excusing herself into the kitchen to retrieve the dinner. The tension in the air was so thick she thought she might choke on it.


End file.
